


Marks

by platoapproved



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Azu/Kiko (background), Bruising, Hickeys, Misunderstandings, Other, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27655928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platoapproved/pseuds/platoapproved
Summary: Skraak learns something new.
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Skraak
Comments: 16
Kudos: 41





	Marks

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a very slight AU where the airship doesn't crash directly after the bodyswap ends. Unbeta'd so I apologize for any mistakes!

Hamid had just left Earhart’s office when Skraak approached him. He could tell something was wrong right away—in a way, Azu’s brief time in Meerk’s body had been very educational for him when it came to kobold body language. So he knew for sure that the way Skraak’s tail was thrashing and the narrowness of their pupils were signs of agitation.

He braced himself for trouble. “H-hello, Skraak…?”

Skraak was never one to waste time or words. So, when he stopped a few feet away from Hamid—hesitating, shoulders hunched, not looking at him—Hamid’s worry only increased.

When they finally spoke, all they said was: “Not here.”

Hamid’s heart thumped against his ribcage with worry as he nodded, following behind when Skraak turned on his heel and headed down into the airship. Skraak did not glance behind him to check that Hamid was following. They descended together into the belly of the ship, to a little corner full of pipes and metal grating, dimly lit by a faint red glow from somewhere far above.

As Hamid stepped closer, Skraak stepped back. Keeping some distance from Hamid. With a twinge of hurt somewhere deep in his chest, Hamid backed off.

“That disease. The one you all are so worried about. I—might be infected.”

Hamid’s blood went cold.

“H-how…? Skraak, we’ve been in the air for _weeks_. There’s no way it could—I mean, I don’t think—it’s not supposed to work… like that. I—think.”

Hamid’s mind raced as he began to doubt his own memory and knowledge of the blue veins. He should get Wilde. He should get Zolf. He should…

But they would _panic_ , and Hamid didn’t want to do that to them unless he absolutely had to. So, forcing himself to be calm, he carried on.

“Skraak—what makes you think you might be infected?”

Hamid had never realized before just how much Skraak usually made eye contact; there was no question that he was avoiding it deliberately at the moment. Which was curious, since it seemed to be conscious and practical, rather than from any sort of embarrassment. He fixed his eyes somewhere a little ways over Hamid’s left shoulder, tail still swaying from side to side in a restless rhythm.

“Two days ago, I was in the body of that human, Kiko—”

“I remember,” Hamid interrupted, baffled how that could possibly be connected to the topic at hand.

Skraak exhaled, frustrated, shifting their weight from foot to foot. “You all said, back in Japan, that you don’t even _know_ how the infection is spread. And none of you seemed to understand the wild magic, either, or why it put us in different bodies, or anything about it. So isn’t it possible that if she were infected, I would be, now, as well?”

Hamid had no answer to that. Skraak wasn’t wrong, after all—there was so much that they still did not know about how the infection worked. He couldn’t give anything like a definitive yes or no to the question.

(But a part of Hamid started to wonder if, perhaps, something else might be going on here. Skraak wasn’t really one for talking about his feelings, but surely it couldn’t have been _pleasant_ , being suddenly ripped from his body without his permission? Especially when he had ended up in a body that, when all was said and done, didn’t look all _that_ different from many of Shoin’s guards—from the people that had drugged the kobolds and put them in cages and given them orders. Hamid imagined that all of that, for someone who clearly needed to be in control as much as Skraak did, might be a fairly traumatic thing. Much much moreso than simply ending up in the body of his best friend and hitting his head on a few lintels.)

“There were marks.”

Skraak’s voice jostled Hamid from his thoughts.

“I saw Kiko in the galley just now and there are _marks_ on her neck. She was trying to hide them with her hair, but I spotted them anyway. That’s what you all check for, isn’t it? With your daily _inspections_ while you quarantine people? Marks on the skin that are a sign of infection?”

And that was precisely the moment that all the pieces fell together in Hamid’s mind. Fear disappeared from him at once, and the inrush of relief left him feeling giddy. He sucked his lips into his mouth and bit them hard, because he could not, _would_ not let himself laugh when Skraak was so genuinely worried. Everything he had just been worried about, when it came to Skraak’s experience of being trapped in Kiko’s body, was still true. So it wasn’t funny. Not at all.

(Except that it was a _little_ funny…)

“Oh. No. No, I uh—I saw Kiko this morning too, and I saw those—marks. That’s—those aren’t the sort of thing that mean someone is infected.”

Skraak just stared, waiting for him to continue.

“Skraak, I promise you, it’s nothing to be concerned about. I think, um. I think—Azu and Kiko are just… _enjoying_. Being back in their own bodies.”

Skraak folded their arms over their chest, tail swishing faster in agitation behind them. They did not look at _all_ satisfied with this explanation, and Hamid could sense their fear beginning to edge over into anger. He was going to have to do much better than this.

“Of course, I sh-should’ve realized you wouldn’t know, because, kobolds have scales, and—and it probably wouldn’t be. Hmm. Oh, dear. How do I put this?”

Hamid ran his hands through his hair, searching for a delicate way to phrase what he was about to say.

“You know what kissing is, right?”

Skraak was no longer avoiding his eyes, which was good. That was a sign that he believed Hamid, to some degree. If he had been worried before that eye contact might somehow help to transmit the infection, he clearly didn’t think that was a danger anymore. The annoyed glare he was giving Hamid was, in Hamid’s opinion, less good. But he couldn’t really blame Skraak for it. He was making a mess of this. 

“ _Yes_.” Just one syllable, clipped short and venomous. Hamid didn’t much feel like laughing anymore. He spoke in a stammering rush in his urgency to contextualize the condescending-sounding question.

“R-right, so, when humans or orcs—or, or halflings, even!—when someone with skin that doesn’t have scales, if—someone kisses them somewhere that the skin is d-delicate and their veins are near the surface...if they sort of suck on the same area for a while, it, um. It actually leaves a bruise like the—like the marks on Kiko’s neck. And it’s s-something uh. Something very _intimate_ , so that’s why Kiko was trying to cover them up with her hair, and why—why the rest of us were pretending we didn’t see, even though it was _obvious_.”

Hamid could feel the heat coming from his cheeks, and was all at once hyper-aware of the fact that he was _blushing_ , that Skraak would be able to see it on his skin. Skraak’s tail might betray his mood, but Hamid’s skin was every bit as traitorous. His heart hammered against his ribcage, but he didn’t look away from Skraak’s level gaze. They seemed less angry now, but they still didn’t say anything. The slight narrowing of their eyes could have been confusion or mistrust. It was certainly not acceptance or relief.

Hamid didn’t want Skraak to keep being worried about this. He certainly didn’t want them going and confronting Kiko about it. And so, impulsively, he blurted out:

“I c-can show you, if—if that will help.”

Skraak’s head tilted to one side, and it seemed to Hamid that he was being assessed. The moment stretched between them, silent and tense. Then, decisively, Skraak nodded.

Which meant he was going to have to actually follow through. 

Hamid nodded back, giving himself a shake. There was no reason to be embarrassed or jittery. This was—unconventional, to be sure, but awkward moments were inevitable when it came to this sort of cross-cultural education. If it would help Skraak to feel safe, how could he refuse? And wasn’t he always wishing there were more things he could do, to help Skraak? To become closer to them? To earn a little more of their trust? 

A little more of their approval?

He brought his wrist up to his mouth, hesitating with his lips just a hair’s breadth away. Suddenly, Hamid was profoundly glad that Skraak had chosen such an out-of-the-way corner of the ship for this conversation. The dim red glow and the quiet sounds of the ship machinery humming around them made it easier, too. Little distractions, pulling Hamid out of his own head and away from his too-loud thoughts. Exhaling shakily, Hamid closed his eyes, and started to suck on the thin skin of the inside of his wrist. At first, it was just weird, and awkward, and all he could think about was trying to make as little sound as possible while doing it. But after a few moments, he settled into it.

Even with his eyes shut, he could feel the weight of Skraak watching him. 

The thought of Skraak’s eyes on him made Hamid dizzy. More and more lately, he had found his interactions with Skraak leaving him jittery and on-edge. He had begun to realize it wasn’t guilt—or at least not _only_ guilt—that he felt after they spoke. But Hamid hadn’t been able to name what that other anxious heightened feeling was.

He was starting to have a guess, now.

There was no way Hamid was going to offer a demonstration and not have it work. So he took his time, sucking hard on the same small patch of skin, feeling it go warm and then tingly, and then hot and swollen and numb. Finally, when he was completely sure he’d done the trick, he unlatched his mouth from his wrist and opened his eyes.

The air was thick, and Skraak was looking at him, unreadable in the dim red light.

Wordlessly, Hamid held out his wrist for Skraak to examine. He felt his face burning when he noticed the way it caught the light, shiny with his spit. The skin of his wrist where his mouth had been was visibly bruised, a blurry mark that stood out, flushed and vivid.

“S-see. I—I promise, Skraak. Kiko isn’t infected, and you’re not, either, it was just—ah, an unavoidable misunderstanding.” Hamid smiled, doing his best to ignore how weak his knees felt.

Skraak reached out, and Hamid’s heart _stuttered_ in his chest. Their eyes were fixed on the mark, and Hamid noticed that their tail had finally gone still. Slowly, deliberately, they brushed a claw against the bruise, and Hamid shuddered hard.

Skraak looked up at him at once, noticing the reaction.

“Leaving bruises like this...feels good?”

Hamid didn’t trust his own voice. The air between them had become charged, and he stood completely still, giving a tiny, quick nod.

Skraak took Hamid’s wrist in his hand, swiping the scaled pad of his thumb over the damp, slightly swollen spot. Hamid’s mind was racing, and he didn’t know what Skraak was thinking. What he was doing? Was Skraak just curious? Did he not understand how just that small touch had set heat unfurling low in Hamid’s stomach, irresistible and exhilarating? 

“Azu is a healer. Why didn’t she simply use a spell, to make the marks go away when they were finished?”

Hamid laughed, a high and breathless sound. He didn’t know at that moment whether to be annoyed with Azu for unintentionally causing all this, or whether he should thank her the next time he saw her.

“I. I don’t know, I c-couldn’t really tell you that without asking her.”

Skraak kept rubbing his thumb over the numb heat of the bruise, in a way that was just idle enough that Hamid couldn’t be sure he even noticed himself doing it.

“Maybe it was because, um. Part of—the appeal is the reminder. That any time the person...s-sees the bruise, they—remember g-getting it. And, um. And some people like. Leaving the marks on their partner as a, uh. A—kind of claiming…thing.”

Hamid heard the tremble in his own voice and felt horribly and deliciously exposed by it.

“Hmm, yes, I see. We have things like that, as well. Ways of marking. To claim.”

Skraak met his eyes again, and there was an expression on their face that Hamid had never seen before. And Hamid knew beyond a shadow of a doubt as soon as he saw that look that it wasn’t aimless curiosity keeping Skraak’s hand wrapped around his wrist.

“O-oh. Oh, I see.”

Skraak must feel it now, beneath the bruised skin—the rabbit-quick flutter of his pulse as Hamid waited, paralyzed with hope. His legs were shaking. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Hamid didn’t know how to _ask_. After a few long, silent moments, Skraak took mercy on him.

“I can show you.” Skraak mirrored the phrasing of Hamid’s earlier offer, voice low and inquisitive. “If you want.”

At that moment, Hamid couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.

“Y-yes, Skraak, I—I would. Like that very much.”

Skraak made a wordless sound of acceptance. It could not have been clearer that he had known what Hamid’s answer would be, even before he had asked.

“Mm. Later. First…”

They finally released his wrist, bringing their hand up to Hamid’s neck. They traced the tip of one claw against the sensitive skin just beneath his jaw. Even from that light pressure, a thin line of faint red blossomed on Hamid’s skin. Hamid shivered, tilting his head to the side, giving Skraak more room. Giving him permission. Skraak leaned in, close enough that Hamid could feel their breath against his skin, warm and perfect.

“Time to try something new.”


End file.
